The Woman in White / Женщина в белом

In the absence of any other means of getting information, I will pass the morning in looking over my mother’s correspondence with Mr. Fairlie. I hope to discover something when we meet again. The luncheon hour is two, Mr. Hartright. I shall have the pleasure of introducing you to my sister by that time, and we will occupy the afternoon in driving round the neighbourhood and showing you all our pet points of view. Till two o’clock, then, farewell.”

As soon as she had left me, I turned my steps towards the hall, and followed the servant, on my way, for the first time, to the presence of Mr.

Fairlie.

We arranged to meet later and I went upstairs to Mr Fairlie’s room. The furniture was the perfection of luxury and beauty; the table in the centre was full of books, elegant conveniences for writing, and beautiful flowers; the second table, near the window, was covered with all the necessary materials for mounting water-colour drawings. It was the prettiest and most luxurious little sitting-room I had ever seen; and I admired it with the warmest enthusiasm.

The servant silently opened the door for me to go out into the passage. We turned a corner, and entered a long second passage. The servant disclosed two curtains of pale sea-green silk hanging before us; raised one of them noiselessly; softly uttered the words, “Mr. Hartright,” and left me.

I found myself in a large, lofty room, with a magnificent carved ceiling, and with a carpet over the floor, so thick and soft that it felt like piles of velvet under my feet.

One side of the room was occupied by a long bookcase of some rare wood that was quite new to me. Mr. Fairlie was over fifty and under sixty years old. His beardless face was thin, worn, and pale, but not wrinkled; his nose was high and hooked; his eyes were large; his hair was scanty. He was dressed in a dark frock-coat.[21 - frock-coat – сюртук] Two rings adorned his white delicate hands.

“I am very glad to see you at Limmeridge, Mr. Hartright,” he said in a croaking voice.

“Pray sit down. And don’t trouble yourself to move the chair, please. Movement of any kind is painful to me. My nerves are very delicate, you know. Have you got everything you want? Do you like your room?

“Everything is fine,” I started to say, but to my surprise Mr. Fairlie stopped me.

“Pray excuse me. But could you speak in a lower voice? Loud sound of any kind is torture to me. You will pardon an invalid? Yes.